


Parent Teacher Conference

by timid_turtle_timi



Series: YOI Hot Dad AU [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I wish I was better at summaries, M/M, hot dad au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 06:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10484433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timid_turtle_timi/pseuds/timid_turtle_timi
Summary: After hearing the truth about the Grand Prix Final banquet from Phichit, Yuuri is determined to avoid seeing Viktor for the rest of his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Long time no update!! I still have the hardest time writing as Viktor tbh. I'm going to try and update in a more timely matter after I've worked on my other series and my Gravity Falls fic. I also have some Voltron fics in the works!!

Yuuri had never been very good at handling his stress. He ate when he was depressed, avoided his problems when anxious, and used any excuse he could to run away from the things that made him uncomfortable. But when it was between facing two people he was near terrified of talking to and paying his rent, Yuuri was stuck dealing with his toiling emotions.

Phichit’s voice called Yuuri back to reality as he prodded the distressed man in the side. “Yuuri, you’re really making this a bigger deal than it actually is.” The Tai skater soothed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Yuri Plisetsky may be the ‘Russian Punk’ but he wouldn’t dare pull anything while you’re his teacher. As for Viktor, you probably won’t even see him outside of the rink. Even then it won’t be while you’re working, and you can avoid his training with Yuri easily.” His friend paused, biting his lip before continuing. “But Yuuri, I really think you should just try talking to him.”

Yuuri gave him a humorless laugh. “I can’t just talk to him. He hardly even knew I existed before I retired, and talking to Viktor now would just be a nuisance to him.”

Phichit snorted beside him, giving Yuuri a mischievous look. “That sure wasn’t the case when you approached him at the Banquet last year.” The younger man laughed lightly, but Yuuri only stared at his friend in confusion. The sight of his face dissolved Phichit’s smile. “What?”

“Phichit, there is no way that I possibly talked to Viktor during the banquet. I stayed in the corner so I could drink by myself.” _And avoid embarrassing myself any further._ He thought glumly.

“Yuuri Katsuki there is no way that you’re telling me that you don’t remember _anything_ that happened that night.”

“Phichit,” Yuuri stared at his friend as panic rose into his throat. “What. Happened.”

___

Yuuri was still processing his shock when he walked Phichit out of his apartment a few hours later. They had eaten dinner in silence that he was grateful for, and he had promised that he would text Phichit tomorrow morning to tell him he was okay after all the information he was given settled in. Though he had to wonder if he would _ever_ fully process what Phichit had relayed to him that night.

He had _not_ sat in the corner by himself that night as he thought. He had _not_ avoided all the other competitors, and most mortifying of all he had _not_ ignored his urge to approach Viktor. In fact, Yuuri had singlehandedly made the banquet his personal dance floor, beaten Yuri Plisetsky at a dance off, stripped in the middle of the room with Christophe Giacometti, and spent the end of the night dancing with Viktor. Pleading with the elder man to be his coach, before he was peeled off of the Russian skater by Phichit and Celestino. Yuuri had certainly _not_ spent the night of the banquet the way he thought he did.

He flipped through the videos and pictures that he received from Phichit, a blush blooming more and more vividly with each image that he saw. Before he could even reach the photos of himself and Viktor, Yuuri turned his phone off in an attempt to calm the embarrassment flooding through his system.

Yuuri talked to Viktor.

He had danced, and _grinded his hips_ _on_ Viktor.

He asked Viktor to be his _coach._

 _Look on the bright side,_ he thought trying to be optimistic. _At least with the right precautions you won’t ever have to face him again._ With his small glimmer of hope, Yuuri walked in a daze to his bedroom, not even bothering to change as he buried himself underneath his comforter. He pushed away all thoughts of the banquet, of Yuri as one of his students, and of Viktor. Letting his mind clear and drive him into a deep sleep.

___

The week continued on in an uneventful crawl. He managed to pay as little attention as he could to Yuri Plisetsky while still doing his job as the teen’s teacher. Yuri actually managed to curb his famous attitude, giving Yuuri simple responses when needed, and kept to himself. Seemingly content with avoiding any unnecessary contact with the former skater.

When he worked at the rink, Yuuri didn’t see either of the Russians. They seemed to practice right after school, and then returned home thirty minutes before Yuuri’s class showed up for their lesson. The absence of Viktor in his life was something he was both relieved, and disappointed about.

His attraction and admiration for the man hadn’t waned since last seeing him, but he felt no desire to see the skater after learning the truth about his behavior at the banquet. The prospect of what Yuuri would find in those last few pictures kept him from looking through the album all the way. They sat untouched in Yuuri’s phone, giving him a jolt of mortified curiosity each time he glanced at the folder.

This curiosity plagued him while he called roll that Friday, trying not to stutter over the now familiar names as he worked his way down the list. His phone was tucked safely away in his bag that he locked in the tiny office next to the gym. With the weight in his pocket he found himself more distracted than when he left it somewhere out of his reach.

He led his class out of the school and up the hill to the running track. The late summer sun heat up his skin as he gave instruction for running the mile, “Just remember to pace yourselves, and when you’re finished you can go get changed then relax in the gym until the bell rings.” He finished, stepping aside to let his class step onto the track.

He started his timer as the teens began running; Yuuri felt a presence to the right behind him. Turning, he came face to face with Yuri Plisetsky. The teen looked uncomfortable.

“The old man asked me to give you this.” He grunted. The teen wouldn’t meet his gaze as he held out a folded sheet of paper. “He wants me excused for the day.

Yuuri took the note, opening it to find a near illegible chicken scratch. “Dear Mr. Katsuki, please excuse Yuri from today’s activities. He has sprained his left ankle and must rest. Thank you! –V. Nikiforov.” Yuuri had to read the bunched words several times to understand it, aside from Viktor’s signature, which was as flourished and practiced as it always was.

Without thinking Yuuri looked up at the teen that still shuffled his feet in front of him and asked, “Is your ankle alright?” the concern in his voice seemed to startle the boy as his eyes finally met Yuuri’s.

“It’s fine.” Yuri replied stiffly. “The old man is just paranoid. It hardly even hurts now.”

“Ah.” Yuuri said dumbly.

The awkwardness between them was palpable as Yuri took a seat on the grass a few feet away from him. Yuuri tried to appear busy by staring idly at his clipboard, taking note of the students that passed him on their way around the track. The silence was cut when Yuri spoke up after a few minutes. “How did you get a job at the school?” The question was so quiet Yuuri strained to hear it; he shifted uncomfortably.

“Celestino, my former coach, he has a friend that works here. He heard they needed a new physical education teacher, and he pulled a few favors to get me the position.”

“Oh.”

Their awkwardness came back in full force as the two of them watched the other students finish their running. As soon as a few other kids finished their mile and made their way towards the gym, Yuri stood from his spot on the ground before giving Yuuri a stiff nod and following them back inside.

The rest of Yuuri’s class period was mellow, after returning to the gym with the last runners he took a seat on the end of the bleachers to wait for the final bell to ring. Checking off the last person on his second roll call, he didn’t notice Yuri approaching him before the boy sat next to him. “Katsuki why are you here?” he asked gruffly, glaring at Yuuri intensely.

He swallowed as his mouth went dry under the teen’s intense gaze. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to be on the receiving end of that glare again. “P-pardon?” he stuttered.

The younger male clenched his jaw before gritting out, “Why are you here teaching whiny little brats, when you should be either sulking at home or losing to me on the ice?”

Yuri’s question stunned the older man. For a few heartbeats he was silent, not sure what to say as he got more and more anxious under the steely gaze trained on his face.

He was saved by the bell signaling the end of class. Making an array of excuses he gathered his clipboard and rose to his feet, quickly walking out of the gym and to the office nearby. After the door was closed safely behind him, Yuuri let out a sigh. He supposed someone would have asked the question soon enough, but he hadn’t expected it to come from the fiery Russian skater.

Pushing Yuri’s question out of his mind, he opened his bag and brought out his phone. He answered a few messages from Phichit, one from his mother, and checked Instagram before he hesitantly held his thumb over his pictures. _I could just delete them…_ He thought. _Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them just sitting on my phone._ But somehow it felt wrong to just delete the photos without looking at them at least once. He passed the album that contained footage and photos from his dance off with Yuri, then the one that held every moment captured of his pole dancing with Christophe, until finally reaching the folder that had photos of him and Viktor together.

Without giving himself time to think about it, he opened the album and tapped on the first one. The first three weren’t as bad as he anticipated, just the two of them dancing with space between them. Viktor seemed to be following Yuuri’s movements as they moved around each other on the edge of the crowd that had formed a circle around them. The last two however, made Yuuri’s heart stutter in his chest. In the fourth, he had his arm around Viktor’s waist, apparently leading him as they gazed into each other’s eyes; their arms touching as they seemed to glide across the dance floor. The last photo was the one to nearly stop his breathing as heat rose into his cheeks, staining them scarlet. Yuuri stood above Viktor, one had holding Viktor’s thigh as he bent backwards into a dip, Viktor’s palm against his back for support. Yuuri’s other hand rest on Viktor’s face, his fingers brushing into his hair as the two of them laughed. Their faces were so _close_ , and Viktor was _smiling_ as Yuuri danced with him. He’d never seen himself so happy.

With his curiosity satisfied, Yuuri shakily set down his phone while he took deep breaths in and out. Viktor had seen Yuuri in one of the most awful and unattractive states he’s ever been in. He knew exactly how Katsuki men got when they were drunk, he’d seen it with his father, and had spent enough nights drinking cheap alcohol with Phichit while they were roommates to know how embarrassing they could get. Yet somehow, Viktor had joined Yuuri in his no doubt sloppy state, he had _fun_ with Yuuri as he dragged the Russian around the dance floor, and even helped Celestino and Phichit get Yuuri back to his hotel room after having the former skater’s sweaty form pressed into his own and being begged to be Yuuri’s coach by the inebriated man.

Yuuri was never going to be able to look at the skater ever again.

___

His plan to avoid Viktor for the rest of his life was ruined by an email he received from the principal. Parent teacher conference was next week, and that meant he would need to talk to the parents that showed up to discuss their children’s progress.

There was a small chance that Viktor wouldn’t show up, but based on the Instagram that was filled with photos of him and Yuri he knew there wasn’t any aspect of the teen’s life that he wouldn’t participate in. He was a dedicated caretaker, acting almost like the boy’s father while they were away from their homes. The thought of Viktor’s domestic life made him smile. Waking up in the morning to care for his protégé, taking him to school, and doing work around the house.

Yuuri shook the thoughts from his head. Even if he had a great night with Viktor a year ago, that was all it was. A fun night, he wouldn’t ever get to know anything about Viktor’s personal life.

Despite his rational thoughts he couldn’t help the heavy weight that settled in his chest.

___

Viktor unlocked the door, letting Yuri into the house before following. His mood was still sour after the ride home. Yuri had argued with him the whole time about his ankle, how he was fine, and how he needed to keep practicing if he wasn’t going to fall like that in the future. Eventually the teen gave up, realizing that Viktor wasn’t going to budge on the matter. They both spent the rest of the ride home in silence, stewing under their calm demeanors.

As soon as he crossed the threshold Yuri stomped up the stairs to his room. Hearing the door slam grated on Viktor’s patience further as the older man locked the door and greeted Makkachin. Combing his fingers through the poodle’s fur soothed him, but a dark cloud hung over him as he did some work on his laptop.

He didn’t see Yuri for the remainder of the afternoon. He resisted the urge to go up and knock on the blonde’s door once he had worked through his frustration. Giving Yuri his space would be better than prodding at him before he cooled down. As evening came, staining the sky outside the windows pink and purple, Yuri came down the stairs quietly as Viktor was browsing through the fridge for something to make for dinner.

“Viktor,” Yuri’s voice was quiet, edged with stress.

The older man turned, keeping a bored expression on his face as he gave Yuri his attention.

Yuri held his gaze, letting the longer side of his hair obscure half of his face. “This was sent home in first period.” He stated, holding out a half sheet of paper.

Viktor took the paper and read over the first few lines. _Parent teacher conference._ A small smile found its way onto his face. “Okay,” Yuri looked at him expectantly. “We’ll go. It will be nice to see how you are doing and get to know your instructors.”

The tension that Yuri held in his shoulders dissolved, he looked away. “We don’t have to. I know that we’ll be busy with training.”

“Nonsense,” Viktor said sternly. “We will always have time for your school and your activities that are outside of skating.”

Yuri seemed pleased with his response, but before Viktor could ask what he wanted to eat, the teen burst out. “I don’t think you should talk to Katsuki.” Determined green eyes met Viktor’s surprised gaze.

“Why not?” Viktor asked carefully. “He is one of your teachers, and I’d like to know how you are faring in class on top of your training.”

“You’re still obsessing over him!” Exasperation filled Yuri’s voice. Not waiting for Viktor’s reply he spoke again, “You get that stupid look on your face when you look at those pictures, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking at them more since we saw him at the rink.” The teen took a breath. “You can’t just keep chasing him.” He finished, the harsh edge in his voice taking over the calm look in his eyes.

Viktor was silent for a moment. He knew Yuri was right, he was still chasing after the man who had been a whirlwind through one night of his life before disappearing for a year. Viktor still thought about the way they danced, how the reserved skater had lost all his barriers in an alcoholic haze, and asked Viktor to be his coach before announcing his early retirement. It left a hole in Viktor that he couldn’t explain, and he was a fool for thinking that Yuri hadn’t noticed.

He met Yuri’s gaze. “Yes, I am still working through my feelings for Katsuki. I can’t promise that it will go away with or without speaking to him.” He admitted, holding the teen’s eyes with his own as he continued. “But whatever happens with him, Yuri, you are my priority. As my student, as the person left in my care. Your training and your needs come before anything.”

Surprise broke out on the blonde’s face for a split second before he looked away. “Whatever old man, make me piroshki.” He stalked over to the island, perching on a stool to watch Viktor cook.

The older man grinned as he moved to grab the ingredients. “Old man,” he glanced over his shoulder.

Yuri tapped away at his phone as he spoke. “The loser wouldn’t tell me why he stopped skating. Talk to him so I can stop this worthless curiosity.”

Knowing full well the reaction he would get, Viktor ran around the island to throw his arms around Yuri. “Thank you Yuri!”

The teen thrashed in his embrace, pushing at the taller man’s chest as he threw a slew of swears at him.

___

The week before the conference dragged on in Viktor’s spare time, but training made it seem like it went a little faster. Yuri was clearly more irritable than usual as Viktor spent their free time constantly asking what he should say, what he should wear, and the constant restless cleaning that happened around the house. Even Makkachin seemed a little more exhausted in dealing with his owner’s anxious energy. Preferring to spend more time than usual on the floor of Yuri’s room than following Viktor as he flitted around from room to room doing this and that.

Every day after Viktor asked about Yuri’s time at school he asked if the boy had spoken to Katsuki at all. The answer was always along the lines of, “No, I’m not your damn wingman you piece of shit dinosaur.”

It was a relief to all three members of their household when Friday finally arrived. Viktor had decided on a maroon short sleeved button up, leaving the top two buttons undone, and some grey slacks that he favored. Makkachin had seemed happy with his choice when asked, but the silver haired man couldn’t help adjusting and readjusting his hair at every stop light he encountered on the way to the school. He wasn’t used to being nervous. It wasn’t a feeling you often felt when you had a life like Viktor’s. He loved being adored, he loved the attention he received, but the prospect of getting _Yuuri Katsuki’s_ attention made him so _very_ nervous.

Yuri was waiting for him at the front of the school when he exited the car. They made idle conversation about Yuri’s day as they wandered through the halls to the common area. Once inside, Viktor scanned the array of tables set up in rows, but he couldn’t see the dark head of hair that he was looking for. Yuri scoffed beside him, rolling his eyes. “Katsuki is in one of the back halls. Let’s get through my other teachers here before going there.” Viktor merely nodded, following the teen to the first table they would visit.

He kept rapt attention to what Yuri’s instructors said. Most of them had the same concerns over Yuri’s choice of language, but overall they were impressed with the high marks he received in class. Viktor felt a surge of pride each time they praised his protégé. A few of them recognized Viktor, and attempted to steer the conversation to his career, but he made it clear who he was here to talk about.

Anticipation kept Viktor on edge as they spoke to the last teacher before they would go to find Katsuki. He did well enough in hiding it, even if the knowing glower Yuri threw towards him said otherwise as the teacher wrapped up their meeting.

“You need to calm down, or you’re going to shit yourself in excitement.” Yuri muttered as they made their way down the hall. “Katsuki’s a nervous wreck half the time, so if not for the sake of avoiding public embarrassment, reign yourself in enough not to give him a heart attack.”

Viktor nodded, taking a couple breaths before the two of them rounded the corner. Sitting behind one of the middle tables, typing on a laptop, sat the familiar form that Viktor recognized from his photos.

Katsuki didn’t notice them as they approached, but when he did, Viktor thought he looked like he was ready to have a heart attack regardless of whether or not Viktor had calmed himself down.

“Ah, Y-Yuri. It’s good to see you, why don’t the b-both of you take a seat?” the Japanese man stumbled over his words a bit, seeming to stiffen as his eyes landed on Viktor.

Yuri sat slouched in his chair while Viktor leaned forward extending his hand. “It is nice to officially meet you Mr. Katsuki, it’s been a long time.” He said smoothly, keeping a light smile on his face. Katsuki seemed to freeze for a moment before hesitantly taking Viktor’s hand.

“I-It’s a pleasure. Mr. Nikiforov-”

“Please, call me Viktor.”

“Alright…V-Viktor.”

The two of them stared at one another, both pair of eyes searching, though what Katsuki might be looking for was lost to the older man. Katsuki seemed to realize their hands were still connected, snatching his away and pushing up his glasses. Viktor couldn’t help the pout that formed on his lips.

The rest of the meeting went uncomfortably. Katsuki was quite obviously flustered, stuttering over his words, and fumbling with the folders and papers on his table. Viktor knew that most of the confidence the other had radiated during the banquet was mostly due to the alcohol the man had consumed that night, but he was still surprised if not slightly disappointed that Katsuki seemed almost scared of him. But all the same, there was something very endearing about the man’s seemingly natural awkwardness. Viktor wondered what would happen if he was pushed.

By the time the meeting ended, most of the other parents and students had left the school. The teachers cleared their tables one by one and Yuri gave Viktor a pointed look before stalking off the way they had come. The Russian took the hint, turning to Katsuki as he gathered the scattered pages on the table. “I was wondering Mr. Katsuki,” the younger man’s head snapped up. “When you announced your retirement I assumed you would be going back to Japan. Why did you decide to stay in the U.S.?” he asked, maintaining a casual approach.

Uncertainty glimmered in Katsuki’s eyes as he bit down on his lip before looking away. “I really like it here, and I wanted to try to live on my own for a bit while I settled down.” Something about the way the younger man wouldn’t look at Viktor told him that Katsuki was lying, or at least not telling him the complete truth.

 “It’s good to try new things, but…” Viktor trailed off, hesitant as he wondered if he was being too nosy in asking what he wanted to know directly. Katsuki looked at him curiously. So, steeling his nerves Viktor finished. “Why did you stop skating?”

The space between them seemed to freeze as they looked at each other. Tension filled Katsuki’s shoulders as his stare seemed to go straight through Viktor. As the silence stretched on, Viktor’s confidence began to fade rapidly. Giving his most sincere smile he spoke again, “Never mind, I should not have asked. Have a good day Mr. Katsuki.”

He began to walk away, embarrassment pinking his cheeks as he went. But a voice from behind stopped him. “Viktor!”

Hope flaring in his chest, he turned to look at Katsuki, who had rose from his seat and looked as surprised at his call as Viktor felt. The former skater shook his head, as if to clear it. “Yuuri.” He stated simply. “Call me Yuuri.”

A grin split across Viktor’s face before he could stop it, elation filling his heart. “Have a good day Yuuri.” He called across the space before following the hall back to the common area where he met with Yuri.

“How did it go?” the teen probed, trying to hide his face further in his hair.

 “Wonderfully.” Viktor replied.

“So you found out why he quit?”

“Not at all.”

 “Then why are you so cheerful? You didn’t find out anything!”

"He told me to call him Yuuri." Viktor mused, a lazy smile still adorning his face. 

 “You’re so fucking weird.”


End file.
